


pink + white

by 99jun



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, but hendery knows how to make it better, dejun is not having a great day, featuring louis and bella!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:43:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27176728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99jun/pseuds/99jun
Summary: if they sky is pink and white,it's the same way you showed me,you showed me love.[FRANK OCEAN PINK + WHITE.]__________________________“jun, can i ask you something?” they have their hands interlaced between each other’s,resting in the space on the bed between their faces where they can feel steady, warm breaths.“mm,” dejun hums quietly.“why me?”
Relationships: Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 1
Kudos: 57





	pink + white

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! this is my first time writing for xiaodery, so here's my contribution :]  
> unbeta'd, so i hope everything flows nicely! let me know how i did so i can work on my future fics!

Dejun knows that fighting pain with pain is the worst possible option, but it doesn’t stop him from doing so. Not with the bottles of liquor littered haphazardly on his kitchen counters. They are barely counters— just an arrangement of mismatched side tables the members had snagged from the market next to their apartment. If not for the other members returning to their family homes, Dejun thinks Kun— or anyone else, really— wouldn’t have allowed him to get himself into this state. But it’s only him and the pets now, and Dejun is somewhat grateful for that. Someone else is close by too, but he doesn’t think they’ll be back anytime soon.

Slinging a jacket over his shoulder, he slides into a pair of sneakers and makes his way down to the neighbourhood grocery store just round the corner. Dejun thinks about the last time he’s gotten groceries, and almost scoffs in amusement when he remembers the untouched stack of green post-it notes on the countertop. 

The members have a way of labelling their food in the fridge— Red for Lucas, Pink for Guanheng, Yellow for Winwin— and everyone wonders why Dejun’s stack of green post-its never seem to deplete. Most of the team’s grocery shopping is done by Kun, but even so, Dejun always forgoes his share, instead dropping them into the arms of a gleeful Yangyang. Long story short, Dejun hasn’t been eating much, not at all some days. No one says a word, but it’s probably because everyone is too caught up with work to confront him about it. The wordless looks of worry from Kun don’t manifest themselves into action on his part too. 

A blast of cool air only exacerbates the pounding in his head as he pushes past the glass door, snaking his way around the aisles to find exactly what he needs. Dejun grabs item after item from the shelves and deposits them into his basket. He thinks that anyone looking at the contents of his basket would slap a giant label of ‘self-destruction’ on it, but maybe it’s because that’s exactly what it is. The last thing he wants is a cashier eyeing him from head to toe, and raising a brow at what he’s put into his basket. For good measure, he throws in a cat wand he knows Louis will never bother to play with, and a couple of oranges. 

“No flowers for you?” The cashier flashes a customer-service smile at Dejun as she continues to pack his items into bags. Dejun doesn’t seem to notice the heart-shaped garlands on the walls and the little cards with cupids printed on the front. 

He gives a nonchalant shrug as the cashier tallies up his payment. The lady behind the counter doesn’t seem to notice the box of blade refills and Excedrin tablets he’s thrown into the mix, and Dejun is thankful for that.

__________________________

“Ah-Heng!” A lady clad in a mustard bandana waves with enthusiasm, her olive green apron slightly flapping in the wind. The edges of Guanheng’s lips curl slightly as he makes out an elderly lady shrouded behind crates and baskets of tulips, daffodils and any type of flower you can name. A gentle smile forms on Guanheng’s face as he steps into the shop; being around Lynn always makes him feel at home.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Aunty Lynn.” Guanheng manages in a mix of Mandarin and Korean.

“Ah… don’t call me Aunty,” She playfully swats Guanheng’s shoulder as she turns around, picks out a rose and drops it infront of Guanheng. “I’m not that old, you know?”

“Alright!” He gives a hearty laugh, before picking up the stalk of rose.

“They look prettier every year,” Guanheng remarks as he twirls it around, studying the drops of dew on each petal.

“Of course! They always do,” Lynn gives a friendly shrug, “especially from the _best_ florist in Cheongdam-dong!” Guanheng chuckles light-heartedly, noting the wizened smile on her face. 

“I’ll get two.” He reaches to grab another stalk, and he picks the freshest one out of the bunch.

“Ah-heng… for _two_ boys?” She remarks in feigned incredulity while busying herself with the bouquet of carnations she’s holding onto, before looking up at Guanheng.

“Don’t have one to begin with,” he admits shyly, rubbing the nape of his neck. “And this one is for you.”

Guanheng returns the stalk to her, sliding her a 1000-won note, before making his way out while waving goodbye to Lynn. Her face has lightened up, and Guanheng thinks she hasn’t aged one bit when he notes the excitement in her eyes as she clutches the stalk of rose.

“See you around, Ah-Heng!”

__________________________

Dejun locks the door behind him and sets the bags of groceries down. Jumping onto the counter, Louis paws at the plastic playfully, swatting the handles about. They finally let the stray in a few days ago, on the condition that the cat would not interfere with their work and scratch up the couch. As Dejun sits up against their well-worn couch with more scratches than he can count, Louis purring softly in his lap, he thinks the mini-contract had never been established in the first place. 

He downs a few caplets of Excedrin, followed by a shot of whatever liquor he’s pouring for himself. It doesn’t really matter; Dejun has his eyes closed from the splitting ache in his skull that almost seems to stretch down his spine. They burn as they go down, but he proceeds to unpack his groceries and toss the oranges into the fridge. He doesn’t think he’ll eat them, though. Maybe he’ll save them for Guanheng when he comes back home, if he ever does, that is. It’s only ten o’clock in the morning, which means there’s almost a whole day left before Guanheng will be back. 

Late morning bleeds into early afternoon, and Dejun has done nothing but make a weak attempt at nursing his ever-worsening migraine. He has his feet up on the armrests of the couch, head tucked in the opposite corner. Louis is partially obscuring his face as he makes himself comfortable on his owner, but Dejun doesn’t have the energy to shove him off. There are much more pressing issues to deal with at the moment.

Like the towel pressed up against his abdomen. Or how the number of caplets left in the box has gone down exponentially in the past few hours. In addition to the horrible cramping in his abdomen, he has to deal with the ever growing patch of garish red on his now damp towel. He could either reach over to turf his phone out from the crack between the couch cushions, or continue to bleed out in their apartment. Neither seems appealing to Dejun, and in this circumstance, given the choice between pride and medical attention, he thinks he should choose the latter.

__________________________

“Jun?” The line picks up on Guanheng’s voice as Dejun sandwiches the phone between his ear and the cushion of their couch. 

“Hey yourself.” Dejun deadpans, before gritting his teeth together as his lower abdomen throbs against the weak compress of the towel. It comes out more aggressively than he’d wanted it to, and he curses inwardly. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Could you come over with a new bag of cat food? If you’re done with your schedule.” Dejun throws out an easy lie off the top of his head, praying that Guanheng doesn’t dwell too much into the thought. He stares at the three bags of brand-new cat kibble piled up in the corner of their kitchen. He’ll have to come up with better lies.

“We’re running low... that fast?” Guanheng chuckles over the line, and Dejun can hear the sound of him clicking the practice room door shut. Which means he’ll be on his way. Which means he’s coming over. 

“Cats are eating m’chines.” Dejun doesn’t mean for it to be verbal, and he’s pretty sure Guanheng can hear him slurring his words over the phone. 

“Coming over in ten.”

__________________________

Guanheng picks out a bag of cat kibble from the shelf, wondering why he’s getting another one when he’d just recently made a trip to the pet store. He decides to bag a bottle of Dejun’s favorite chilli and two packets of chips. They might have time for a movie tonight, if neither of them are too exhausted. 

As the lift doors slide open, he lugs the bags in both hands, along with the one-size-too-big bag of cat food. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten so much of it. The front door is ajar, and Guanheng takes it as a sign for him to walk in.

Guanheng pats the top of Bella’s head as he sets the groceries down, giggling at how she’s overexcitedly pawing at his ankles. As he slides the bottle of chilli across the counter and puts away the chips in the cabinets, Guanheng eyes a pair of feet sticking out from the front of the couch.

Walking towards him, he dusts his hands against his jeans and stares at Dejun’s current predicament. There’s a beige cat strewn across his face, and Guanheng wonders how Dejun is breathing under all of that fur. The older has one hand pressed up against his stomach and the other hanging off the couch.

Guanheng reaches out with both arms to peel the cat away from his face, and quips a “hello?”, even though he’s fully aware that Dejun has probably heard him enter the dorm by now. 

The sudden change in light makes Dejun squint in annoyance. “Hey.” He blows a strand of hair away that’s fallen across his eyes and massages the bridge of his nose with the other hand. The headache has dulled, but that doesn’t mean the pain in his abdomen has subsided in any way.

Louis flops around lazily in Guanheng’s arms, his tail coiling around his hip and his paw outstretched towards his chin.

“Who’s this fella?” Guanheng tickles Louis’ belly gently, nuzzling his nose against Louis’ and acting like it’s his first time meeting the cat. “Our baby!”

“Is he really, though?” Dejun lifts an eyebrow and looks towards the floorboards.

“He’s a feisty baby.” Guanheng eyes the numerous chewed up cat wands littered across the floor, before dropping Louis to the ground gently. He swipes his palms against his jeans to get rid of the cat fur before sitting on the other end of the couch, just by Dejun’s legs. 

His gaze trails northwards, landing on the towel Dejun has pressed up against his abdomen. “Oh my god,” Guanheng exhales as he takes in the sight before him, reaching forth to lift the older’s hand. Dejun stiffens and darts him a look of irritation.

“Jun, come on.” He slackens his shoulders, and almost pleads him as Dejun rolls his eyes. He lifts the towel away reluctantly and lets Guanheng have a look of it; he would have shooed Guanheng away if his abdomen wasn’t trembling in sheer pain.

“The absorbency isn’t g’d in this one,” he mumbles, feeling something warm trickle down his side as Guanheng takes hold of the towel from his grasp. “I’m going to ruin the couch,” Dejun states dryly as he sits up and tries to plant his feet on the floor. 

“I think you need the ER.”

“No."

“Dejun?” Guanheng puts the towel aside and looks him in the eye.

“I can deal with it myself.” He brushes the younger off and part of him wants to beat the pitying expression out of Guanheng’s face, but he figures he doesn’t have the energy to do so. Another part of him wants to reach out and hold onto him, but it fills him with shame for some reason.

As Dejun makes a laughable attempt at cleaning off the blood with a couple of napkins, he doesn’t realise that Guanheng has left his side and made his way into the bathroom. The creak of the bathroom cabinet sounds throughout their tiny apartment, and Dejun is far too drained to protest against getting stitched up by him.

__________________________

“You called me, remember?” Guanheng dabs cotton against his skin and he hisses involuntarily. 

_ Right.  _ He doesn’t recall why he had dialed him out of the hundreds of contacts in his phone. Maybe it’s because the only number flooding his ‘Recents’ page is Guanheng’s, maybe it’s because his name comes up earlier in the alphabet than Sicheng or Yangyang. Or maybe it’s because he’s listed under ‘Favourites’ and Guanheng’s contact just so happens to be the only one in that section. 

“Yeah…” Dejun lets out a sigh of resignation, before growing silent as he eyes the suture kit next to him.

“Might hurt, but I’ll be gentle, okay?” Guanheng eyes him once over and rubs his shoulder lightly. It almost disgusts Dejun how good Guanheng’s palm feels against his skin, how good touch feels, if he’s being honest. Dejun doesn’t remember the last time he’s gotten a hug— maybe it happened when he was roughhousing with Yangyang, maybe it was when Kun comforted him before their stage a few months ago. 

Guanheng knows better than to start a conversation with Dejun now, so he makes each suture as quick and precise as he can, concentrating on getting the gash sealed shut instead of the way Dejun’s fists are clenched by his thigh. Needles don’t normally make Dejun queasy, and he doesn’t mind the pain, either. It’s more of the fact that he’s not tending to his own wounds, but instead letting someone else do it that bothers him. Although Guanheng is gentle and he knows he means well, Dejun can’t help but feel the guilt settle in.

Louis leaps into the tiny space between the two boys, curling up into a ball with the intention of taking an afternoon siesta. 

“Hey,” Guanheng gently scoops the cat up and plops him down next to Dejun’s ear. Louis nestles into his silver hair and purrs softly. Dejun makes an attempt to concentrate on the way Louis’ nose twitches every now and then, stares at the shimmering reflection on his collar, all in a bid to distract himself from the situation at hand.

__________________________

Dejun doesn’t realise it’s over until he cracks his eyes open a fraction and notes of Guanheng’s presence next to him in his peripheral vision. The younger is flicking through channels mindlessly while scratching the top of Louis’ head. He turns his head to the other side and finds the box of blades that he had wedged in between the cushions gone.  _ Shit. _

“Jun?”

He sits up slowly and faces Guanheng on the couch, humming quietly in response.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing. What should be?” He scoffs self-deprecatingly, slinging an arm over the couch cushion and raising a brow. He pretends not to feel the stinging pain in his abdomen from lifting his arm. As Dejun fixes his gaze between Guanheng’s shoulder and the wall, he notices a stalk of rose in their usually-empty vase.  _ That’s new.  _ There’s now a bandage that goes all the way round his lower abdomen.  _ That’s new too. _

“Cut myself while preparing dinner,” Dejun slips into yet another lie smoothly, trying to sound as honest as he can. “Stupid, I know.”

“God, Dejun. Stop.”

“The vegetables were a lot tougher today and the—”

“Are we past this?” Guanheng cuts him off, and there’s more of concern than irritation in his tone. 

“Why?”

“Because I know you’d never cook for yourself, and it’s just…” Guanheng doesn’t quite know what to say next, so he drops his forehead to his hands.

Dejun starts to wish he had never dialed him, starts to wish that he had never picked up the phone so they wouldn’t be sitting here on the couch, having this talk. 

“I don’t see why it’s so hard for you to talk about it.” 

“You don’t see a lot of things.”

It scares him that there’s more of Dejun he has never seen. Because he’s seen him struggle in the deep end of the water for months on end and Dejun’s never once asked for help. It scares him how he always remains this nonchalant about mistakes during practices and being lectured by the higher-ups, but by night he’s curled up into a fetal position on his bed, turned away from Guanheng. But the fact that he had dialed him must mean something, right?

“I know everything, and it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” Guanheng rests a hand on his lap and it surprises him that Dejun doesn’t flinch or push it off. His shoulders loosen slightly and Guanheng takes it as a sign to continue.

“I just wished you had asked for some help, gone out to get fresh air with someone, played a game at an arcade or something,” Guanheng exhales. “Or sent me a text, talked to me, I don’t know…”

Guanheng’s chivalry and saviour complex irks Dejun slightly. It’s not that he thinks it’s wrong to render help, no. Guanheng has always been everyone’s first-aider, and sometimes Dejun wonders how he never gets tired of it. It’s because Dejun’s never been offered this much help in a long, long time. He doesn’t know how to respond to it, because he’s never felt it. 

“You can’t fix it, you know that, right?” Dejun finally speaks up, and this time he sounds less aggressive than he did before, his tone almost leaning towards dejection. Guanheng’s eyes widen in anticipation.

“I can’t. Not all of it. But I’m going to try, Jun.” Guanheng admits, and there’s a certain tenderness in his voice which makes Dejun want to curl up into a ball. “You’re not the only one who’s felt this way.”

Dejun tries to remember a time when they were both okay, when they laid shoulder to shoulder on the floors of their dorm, the pets sprawled across their chests. When Guanheng taught him how to drum, when they both huddled in the corner of the studio, going over sheets upon sheets of handwritten lyrics. Dejun doesn’t know if there will ever be a time when they will both be okay, when he will be okay. What he’ll never say is how much he misses time spent with Guanheng everyday.

He doesn’t.

He really doesn’t.

_ (He’s always been such a good liar.) _

__________________________

“Can you promise me one thing, though?” Guanheng inches closer so that their shoulders are touching and he can feel the heat radiate off the other. 

Dejun ponders over his question for a second. “Hm.”

“Talk to me.”

Dejun realises then what it means to be loved, silently.  _ Tell yourself that everything you love will stay with you, forever.  _

With a silent nod, Dejun reaches over to pull Guanheng into an embrace that leaves him wide-eyed. “Thank you, Guanheng.” He lets a few tears shed, but he dries them off on his shoulder before pulling away.

Dejun never imagines himself asking this question, but he thinks he’ll need this for tonight.

“Can I…” Dejun lowers his head; he feels somewhat pathetic but maybe, just maybe for one night, he’ll let himself go. “Can I have Ten’s bed tonight?”

“We can share mine,” Guanheng has the most endearing smile Dejun has ever seen, and all the older can do is to give him a gentle nod of approval. He needs this for tonight. 

__________________________

That evening, Dejun spots the stalk of rose in the vase again, wondering how it had gotten there.

“Have a date later tonight?” Dejun brings it up to his face and pesters him. 

“When was the last time you looked at the calendar?”

“Like, never.”

“I figured.” He spins the desk calendar around and shows Dejun the date. 14 February.

“Uh huh,” Dejun raises an eyebrow at the box he’s pointing to on the grid, before looking back up at him. “14 February.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Guanheng carefully takes the stalk of rose out from the vase and holds it out to him. Dejun can’t tell if his expression is leaning more towards disappointment or amusement. 

“Oh.”

But then he breaks out into a smile and Dejun graciously accepts the rose.

Guanheng makes it a tradition to gift Dejun a rose on Valentine’s each year. If a single stalk of rose can lift his spirits, albeit slightly, he doesn’t let Guanheng know. But Guanheng sees it, and it makes him smile too.

__________________________

In the morning, Dejun hears the pan in their kitchen sizzle for the first time in a few weeks. The silver hanging from Louis’ collar seems to shine a little brighter, and the bluebird that perches itself outside their window sounds a little cheerier. A beacon of warm, yellow light casts itself onto the floorboards, and the sliver of sun that rests on his skin  _ comes mid-morning as a reminder _ .

_ That at the right time, in the right surroundings, with the right people, _

(Guanheng steadies a plate of pancakes in one hand as he pushes their bedroom door open with the other, a smile gracing his lips. He’s clad in a white tank and his hair is still slightly ruffled from sleep. Dejun smiles to himself for the first time in a long while, and they sit next to each other with their legs hanging off the side of the bed.)

_ he will be loved.  _

(“Really good,” Dejun remarks with his mouth full of pancake, before sliding Louis and Bella a tiny piece he has cut out for each of them. Guanheng watches as Louis pounces onto the pancake and attacks it like it's a mouse. Dejun watches as the younger lets out a hearty laugh, and he reminds himself that he is finally surrounded by what he can truly call home.)

__________________________

“Jun, can I ask you something?” They have their hands interlaced between each other’s, resting in the space on the bed between their faces where they can feel steady, warm breaths. 

“Mm,” Dejun hums quietly.

“Why me?”

Dejun ponders over the question. Guanheng’s eyes are just slightly glassy, and he notes of the way he’s scrunching his nose every few seconds as if there are tears being held back.

“Because I thought you’d do the right thing.”

“Is it… working out?” Guanheng’s expression softens even further. 

Dejun kisses Guanheng lightly on the tip of his nose. “ _I think maybe it is._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> i referenced a whole bunch of films/songs here in the form of quotes/lyrics, but i thought i'd mention that the bit about the mid-morning reminder towards the end of the fic is inspired by a line from muna's song titled pink light!  
> "and there's a pink light in my apartment  
> it comes mid-morning as a reminder  
> that at the right time, in the right surroundings  
> i will be lovely"  
> (lots of references to the color pink in this fic... also unintentionally, pink is hendery's favorite colour!)


End file.
